Medusa Child
by Marie-J
Summary: a dying baby abandoned in the Forbidden Forrest, brought up by magical creatures, returned to the wizarding world years later to become one Severus Snape... but not really as we know him…
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Medusa Child  
  
AUTHOR: Marie-J  
  
1 RATING: R for now… maybe more later  
  
DISCLAIMER: J K Rowling owns Harry Potter and its characters. I'm just borrowing them  
  
2 PAIRING: SS with… well, you'll see. I don't even know yet myself…  
  
SUMMARY: a dying baby abandoned in the Forbidden Forrest, brought up by magical creatures, returned to the wizarding world years later to become one Severus Snape... but not really as we know him…  
  
NOTES: This story is based on a plot generously offered to me by Azrael. It can be considered AU, even if we don't really know anything about Severus' life and childhood in canon universe. It will be slash and mpreg later on, but not now. It's really more of a saga, the story life of our dear Potions Master than anything… meaning it will be long and cover more than thirty years of life and adventures. As always, drama, angst, mad ideas, a little humour at times… and romance at one time…  
  
ARCHIVE : mpreg and ff.net. Anyone who would like it, but ask first, please.  
  
STATUS: WIP  
  
Azrael, this story is yours as well as mine. Thank you so much !  
  
Dear reader, welcome into this new adventure !  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 1: An abandon, an adoption.  
  
People always assume a lot of things. It had always been this way with human beings and more particularly in wizarding society. Well, Severus Snape knew better than falling in this trap. One of his strongest principle could be summed up into three short sentences. 'Either you know or you don't know. Never assume. It could get yourself killed.' Not that any school had taught it to him. Experience only, and the education and the advises of the wisest creature earth had ever bore on its surface, could have carved it in the deepest parts of his mind.  
  
People always assume things: the safest place for a child is under the natural and magical protection of his or her blood relatives. Well, that was quite true for gryffindor families like the Weasleys. Who would ever think that anything but love and deep caring could come out of Molly Weasley ? That was the typical example for that oh so common assumption. Severus Snape once again knew better than trusting this eternal 'social law'. His thirty five years of life had taught him better…  
  
One other common assumption in the English wizarding society: the highest creature on earth is the wizard, quickly followed by muggles. All other sentient being is either meant to be their servant or are evil cruel monsters. And the Forbidden Forrest is the place where creatures of this second category were hiding in the dark, waiting for the occasion to act on their violent instincts on the first wizard mad enough to wander the dark paths of this haunted woods. And of that last belief, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the man who was preparing himself to become Lord Voldemort, had had no doubts.  
  
That's the reason why, on this cold night of February 1965, the already dark wizard apparated at the edge of the Forrest, near Hogsmeade, in a desert field of rocs and heather. His large black hooded cloak was hiding his figure and face to anyone he would have encountered here… if anyone was crazy enough to be outside, at this hour and in this snow storm. His pace was amazingly rapid and secured, in the middle of this strong wind and this blinding snow. He was advancing decidedly along a small path entering the first rings of the woods. The screams of the beasts and the strange howls that seemed to follow him every step of his walk in this God Forsaken place didn't seem to frighten him in the slightest. He was a man with a mission, after all, and, vain as he was, he was sure he was strong enough and fully prepared to defend himself against any danger he could meet there.  
  
He had chosen that night to dispose of a liability. An experiment turned wrong that could very well incriminate him if discovered. Tom Marvolo Riddle was utterly confident in his power and had, in the last ten years, developed his understanding of the Dark Arts to such a point that there was no one in the world who could defeat him in a duel or otherwise… save maybe for the old fool Dumbledore. His ambitions now engulfed the domination of the whole Wizarding Society, and well… of the world too. But he was not ready to go public right now, to take the risk of being exposed for what he was too early. He needed to seduce and gather faithful followers first. To build an army to backup his ambitions. And in order to do that, he couldn't afford leaving traces of his dark crimes behind himself.  
  
And this one was maybe one of his darkest, cruellest one. A crime that was casting him definitely out of the category of the human beings. Under his black coat, Riddle was carrying the beaten and injured body of a little child, no more than three or four years old… his child, his own son. Well, not that he considered it as such. A bastard, an inconvenience… nothing more. Born by one of his lovers… a little pureblood thing, all sweet and innocent, he had been delighted to seduce and ruin. 15 years old, from the highest wizarding society… a Potter, a direct heir of Godric Gryffindor, nothing less ! Beautiful but so stupid. She had been a challenge, nothing more. Used for a few months and then discarded and sent back to her family. Riddle would be a name that would never be heard with joy in the Potter Household, that was for sure ! Her older brother, Harrold Daniel Potter, had sworn he would avenge her lost honour in Tom's blood… He would have included James, his new-born son, in the oath if his little wife hadn't stopped him ! Well, he could try… and die in the process !  
  
But she wouldn't let go, the little Anna Potter. No, she wanted him back so badly… she was in love, the little fool. It was comical, really ! She had fled her shameful and angry family once more and come back to him, telling him she was four months pregnant, that he had to take her in, that it was his duty, as a father-to-be… And she had thought she could keep him in her bed by giving him an heir, thinking she could order him around. How foolish of her, really ! How wrong of her. He had no need of a family right now, if ever. That would only come in his way, against his precious ambitions. But the child… well, many dark magic or dark potion could be done with a baby, or even better, the sacrifice of one's offspring… That could represent a lot of power and disregarding it would not be very Slytherin of Tom Marvolo Riddle.  
  
So he had kept the pregnant girl locked in one room of the Riddle Mansion for the next five months. Well, once, she had tried to escape, in the middle of her eighth month. She had finally understood how little he 'cared' for her… It had taken her enough time, the idiot ! She didn't go very far, however. He had stopped her in the loby, three feet away from the door… A Petrificus Totalis to stop her… and a few tastes of Cruciatus to punish her and teach her what it cost to cross him… How angry he had been… such a fury… it had been delectable, so pleasurable, this little torture session… Maybe a little too brutal and carried away in fact. Not that he cared about her suffering, no. But the shock of the cruciatus curse had started the labour and … damaged the fœtus.  
  
Twenty hours after the failed escape tentative, their son was born blind and extremely weakened. The little baby had not even cried, his lungs too feeble for even that. He was staring around himself blindly, through his white burnt retina, searching for a comforting presence that had already faded away. The mother had had the good idea of dying in the process, saving Riddle the bother to kill her himself. Her body, abandoned in the middle of the Forbidden Forrest would never be found, leaving her family in an eternal doubt as to what had happened to young sweet Anna Mary Potter.  
  
Only a strengthening spell cast by the avid dark wizard had saved the baby's life. Soon, his blood, his skin, his pain, little samples of his bones were used to make the darkest potions, to cast the strongest curses. Soon, the baby who had never, since he had taken his first breath, known safety, discovered pain, torture and excruciating sufferings. Not a week without feeling the cold and violent hands of the monster who had lost the right to be called his father on his little beaten and weak body, cutting him, bruising him, drawing blood and leaving awful scars. Torture was the baby boy's day to day life. He had come to expect it eagerly, as the only real contact he had with any other human being.  
  
And yet, left in the care of a house elf, the baby boy had survived, despite all the abuse, despite his loneliness, despite his hunger for love and comfort. In the baby's boy mind, there was a faint memory of a time when he had a mother, when she was literally surrounding him with her warmth, when she was talking to him softly, taking care of his every need and feeding him her passion and feelings. There was still this instinctive hope that he would one day find this same safety again… Each day, a new part of him was dying. The baby boy was fading away a little more each day. Whatever subterfuge and spell Riddle found to keep him alive, the process was on the way. The baby boy was letting himself die slowly but surely.  
  
At three and a half years old, the boy appeared to be no more than eighteen months old. He was blind, couldn't speak, didn't communicate anymore, not even by crying. He was so feeble that even the strongest healing potion would not keep him alive more than one more month. As cold and cruel as ever, Riddle had noticed it and decided to do a last dark potion before finally discarding the failure that was his flesh and blood. An Invulnerability Potion, in which the brewer had to add the heart of a rat who had been feeding on the youngest offspring of the wizard for whom it was made. Locking the baby in the cellar for five minutes had been enough. Riddle now had at his disposal ten rat hearts… and the blooded and dying body of a little child to hide from curious eyes. Hence the night trip to the Forbidden Forrest.  
  
The child, his son, had no name. No… why would he have been gifted something that would have made him a human being, a person, when his own father considered him an object, an experiment turned wrong, a failure, a mere piece of garbage? For all his father cared, he was only a piece of meat and the fact that he was still breathing, in spite of all his injuries and infirmities, was only a detail. The child had no identity. No one knew of his existence. The child had no family. No one would be looking for him. The child had nothing. The child was nothing. And soon enough, his body would be eaten by the local monsters, no longer a liability, no longer a proof to be used against him. Nothing would be left of the child and it would be for the best. Good riddance !  
  
At the moment Riddle abandoned his light burden in the middle of a clearing, the dark wizard felt no fear, no regret, no guilt, no shame. Five minutes later, after he had apparated away, he had almost forgotten he had ever had a son, whom he had tortured and abused for three years and condemned to a sure death. He had forgotten he had destroyed the lives of a 15 years old beautiful and generous girl and of her baby boy. For him, it was only the beginning of a dark and immense destiny, the first step on the way of the realisation of his oh so high ambitions.  
  
******  
  
To disrupt another of those assumptions of the English wizarding society, the best word to describe the Forbidden Forrest wasn't chaos but balance. The sentient beings that were its inhabitants were more often than not smart and had constituted a real society… or a patchwork of micro- societies, clans and species groups. They coexisted together, with their traditions and their own rules. Often times, they could even band together in order to defend the Forrest against any attack or invasion. Their ways could be brutal or harsh most of the times, dictated by their primary needs, but in a more global vision, peace and order generally reigned over the community of magical beings.  
  
Each one knew its place and territories, and no war for domination or extermination of other specie was ever started in this loose federation of sorts… Not that a few species, like the vampires or the giant spiders had no ambitions… they had been known in the past for trying one or two attacks against their more peaceful neighbours to increase their territories quite successfully, in fact. But their actions had always been annihilated and the balance re-established and restored.  
  
Balance was the key word. And to see at its enforcement, the strongest, wisest and oldest magical creatures had installed themselves as the protectors of the whole community as well as the referee in all kind of conflicts. Tradition, force and reverence assured their success. Their decisions were followed, as much because they were feared as because they were respected.  
  
In the English Forbidden Forrest, for the last three millennia, this particular place, function and honour had been attributed to a creature only known under the name of Medusa. This wise lady, immortal child of the gods, and heir of the natural forces, possessed a tremendous amount of primal power no other could match. She had been conceived to be the perfect mix between woman and snake. The mere fact of seeing her face was fatal. The fool who dared to threaten, attack or defy her was instantly petrified, with no chance of ever being reanimated, even by the most potent potion or healing spell. And twice fool would be the one who would forget her immense magical abilities both to defend and to attack.  
  
And yet, her looks, which very few had been granted the honour to see safely, were full of wilderness, grace and beauty. Her slender and tall female figure seemed to be sliding above the ground and dancing in the wind. Her white skin was shining in the rare places where it wasn't covered with layer after layers of green, brown and golden veils. But her most striking and mesmerising characteristic would instil fear and awe in the heart of any observer, if it didn't bring death. Instead of hair, hundreds of living snakes of all colours, species and length were framing her pale face. Boas, aspics, cobras, najas, adders, and so many other were slithering on her shoulders and down her back, some of them erected in the air around Medusa's head, forming a horrendous and yet splendid halo.  
  
On that same night of February, this powerful lady was seriously accomplishing one of her self imposed duties while walking idly in so well known paths : checking the magical wards she had settled all around the Forrest perimeter to monitor any intrusion. No one could enter without being noticed and observed. The innocent wizard who only wished to collect a few ingredients for potions, for example, or the good hearted persons who had taken a true passion for the Forrest and its inhabitants and genuinely helped them, like this half giant, Hagrid, were left alone. Medusa could even feel respect and friendship for a few of them she had come to watch discreetly over time. She was protecting them too, understanding very well that too many attacks and deaths would unmistakably lead to reprisals and disorder from angry humans. But people trespassing the borders of her world ill-intentioned, to hunt or to kill mindlessly were fair game for the natural predators and the magical creatures they had come to attack.  
  
On that particular night, Medusa had nearly finished her inspection when one of the alarms went off in her mind, informing her that someone had crossed over the edge near the wizard village. Apparating immediately in this sector, she soon focussed her attention on a dark hooded figure walking quickly in the direction of the blue licorn's clearing. She couldn't see the intruder clearly, only guessing at its stature and moves that it was a man, young, and strong. The spells he was coming across gave her more details about him. A wizard, obviously. Alone and, at first impression, not here to bring trouble to her people.  
  
But her feelings and instincts were not at ease. The sharp senses of her snakes had given her all the practical and tangible indications, but her own eyes, blind to the lights, forms and colours that surrounded her, could read auras, minds and hearts. The closer to him she came and the more her inner senses were set off by this stranger. He was surrounded by black and angry red storms of cold ruthlessness, madness and lust for power and domination. No innocence left in him… that was for sure. Blood and sadism had deeply tainted this man.  
  
That was exactly the kind of auras Medusa hated to read. It was like a hard slap hitting her in the face, freezing her with dread and anger. It always left a bitter trace in her mind, as if she somehow could hear the screams and pleas of this human monster's victims. And she had already heard them… they were not so many yet, but they came from the torture sessions of the same wizard… oh, yes… she had seen this despicable man before… in the past ten years, he had come to abandon many murdered and tortured bodies to rot or be devoured in the Forrest. Medusa had never done anything against him… no harm had been intended against her domain and her politic was of total non-intervention in human matters not interfering with the destiny of the Forrest. But seeing those broken existences, those lives destroyed so mercilessly…she understood the necessity of killing to survive or to protect, even, more questionably maybe, in war or conquest, but there, it seemed to be gratuitous, by mere… pleasure… something totally foreign to her honour and understanding.  
  
There had been this teenager, no more than sixteen years old, whose face was still contorted with pain even in the liberation of death. She was not the only victim of this dark … thing. Far from it, in fact. But she was the one for whom Medusa had felt the more sorrow and compassion. One look at her had told her the whole story. The girl had been weakened so much that the monster had been sure she would die in childbirth. She had been too thin and signs of torture were still visible. She had never even seen her baby. She could have been a mother, she could have loved and been loved unconditionally, she could have shared every moment of the life of the tiny being whom she had given life.  
  
But this dark figure had stolen that from her. Oh so cruelly ! If there was one thing her immortality and her immense power hadn't given to Medusa, and very likely would never give her either, it was motherhood. Medusa and her two sisters were unique and could search till the end of the world for a partner to conceive an offspring without ever finding one. And that was her only desire, her most painful regret, her eternal need, having a child… being a mother. No wonder that such a case would have hurt her more than any other she could come across in her millennia, by empathy if nothing more. Even three years later, she still felt waves of anger rise in her heart against this particular intruder.  
  
Shaking away those memories and thoughts from her mind, Medusa finally focused her attention back on the present. The teenage girl was in the past. The bundle so carelessly thrown over the killer shoulder was in the present. And if she had to trust the macabre series this particular wizard had begun, it could not be anything but a new victim. Stepping a little closer, still making sure that she wasn't seen by the intruder, she was finally able to sharpen her perception of the spectacle unfolding in front of her. The very sensitive tongues of her snakes had detected a strong smell of blood, fresh blood. There was now no doubt left about the goal of this intrusion. And that meant that Medusa would have to perform the Ritual yet again, to take care of the Dead to ease their passing to the Other Side. Who did they think they were… and they thought the magical creatures were all brutal and heartless monsters? How arrogant they could be, those humans ! Leaving their victims here to be devoured, without giving them any respect and denying them the Eternal Rest… Who were the monsters?  
  
Sighing to herself, the Protector of the Forbidden Forrest took a moment to calm herself. It was not the first time, since the moment, years ago, she had seen this dark figure stepping into her domain, that she had wondered if she could not, for once, forget about her own rules and bring justice to this true monster, each time wondering if it would be fair to risk the safety of her Woods in order to avenge those human murders. And like each time, once again, wisdom and practicality told her to let humans take care of human matters. But her patience had become very thin, with each victim. She had even come to hope that this killer would attack her domain so that she could finally let her anger loose and bring a little practical justice to the world… No such luck.  
  
The dark figure had now stopped in the clearing and unceremoniously thrown his burden at his feet, in the snow. Turning his back to his crime, he was already walking away from his abandoned victim, as coldly as if he had only rid himself of a piece of garbage. Medusa watched him carefully, her disgust clearly following each of his despicable moves. Once again the same hesitation rose in her mind… once again discarded. There was nothing to do except to go and check what could only be a corpse, before it could be buried under the snow.  
  
Steeling herself for her macabre duty, Medusa hurried to the clearing and, kneeling beside the dark bundle, pulled aside the black blanket in which the body had been wrapped… and gasped in horror. The vision her snakes had given her sent a violent chill through her, making her dizzy. A child. Still a baby. So innocent… A baby, for God's sake ! In blood… so much blood, cuts and bruises every where. His poor little face… God, his face ! What have they done to this child ?  
  
Medusa couldn't stop the sob that escaped from her throat nor the tear that fell from her eyes on the baby's face. She advanced a shaking hand toward the tiny cheek to wipe it away, in an instinctive gesture of respect, sorrow and deep compassion. The first contact made her gasp once again… in surprise and hope, this time. The skin was still warm and… yes, the baby boy still had a faint and fragile aura around him… this bright white light shining its innocence and fear… and fading more and more with every second. The baby boy was still alive. Terribly hurt and agonising, but alive never the less.  
  
This time, there was no doubt in Medusa's mind. She would act, no matter her non intervention politic. The child had been abandoned here, given to the Forbidden Forrest, to her, in a way, after all. His destiny, his protection, were her responsibility too now. She had to try to heal him. Anything else would be unthinkable. She would do anything in her power for this child… so tiny… so innocent… so hurt. Reaching even further with her mind, and wrapping the baby in the warmth of her magic, she began the long and difficult process. Infusing the little body, mending it with her energy, sharing her health with him, trying to force the pain, the cold and the death away: it would be a long battle, but Medusa refused the mere idea of defeat. Tendril after tendril of repairing power, she worked on the deepest wounds, stopping the bleeding here and there, passing her hands over his little chest, head and back.  
  
But despite her efforts, she could still feel the boy's life slipping away a little more with every second… sliding away from her grasp. And with every second, Medusa was becoming more and more desperate to save the baby boy, more and more determined to put her whole being in the battle if need be. In a last chance to reverse the process, she reached more deeply in the child's aura, to try and identify the cause of this dire situation that was taking away her hopes little by little. Focussing her attention on his state of mind, on his feelings, on his memories, on his expectations, she searched frantically for minutes that seemed to last hours. He was so sad… an ocean of sadness and despair. Diving in it was so difficult, so harsh to take in, but finally she found the answer to her question.  
  
It was as if the baby had lost the will to survive, to live anymore. He had suffered too much, known nothing else in the three years or so he had been kept alive. You couldn't even call that existence a life. For a long time, he had been hungry for affection, any token that would remind him the love of a mother, the comfort of the womb. But this hope, this craving had faded away, leaving behind only an emotional vacuum. And now, the child had been offered an escape from his suffering, both physical and emotional and mental, through death… and couldn't find any reason to fight, to go on hurting like that when he could embrace this blessed void.  
  
Of course, those suicidal thoughts were not and could not be expressed so clearly in the baby's consciousness; he was too young, too simple yet for that. But his unconscious mind and his wounded heart were radiating with them. And reading them tore at Medusa's heart and mother instincts. Healing the body would never be sufficient. She would have to treat the mind and the heart too, and in priority… to reach for his inner self and convince him to go on living.  
  
And so she started to send him wave after wave of her sincerest feelings, searching for a way to comfort him. Compassion came first, along with pity and a fervent wish to see him healthy, to erase his pains and make his life better, her dedication to fight for his well being. But that wasn't enough. It was maybe a little appeasing for the baby's wounded spirit, to know that someone cared what had happened to him and had some sympathy. But it wasn't enough. And Medusa tried harder, shielding the baby's soul with every ounce of warmth that she could muster. And still it was not enough to anchor the baby's spirit into life.  
  
He still had nothing more in life than he would have in death, still nothing to expect in a future life. She was just soothing his passing right now. The baby boy needed something else, a reason to choose life over the eternal rest he craved. Medusa would have to give much more, offer promises much more personal, and sincere, if she still wanted to save him. Promises she would have to keep… no matter what.  
  
Medusa took a short moment to consider the situation. In her next move, if she chose to make it, was hidden an engagement to the child she could never break. She was now aware that if she saved the baby's life, she would be responsible for it, she would have to take care of him, protect him, and more than anything, love him, be a mother to him. For nothing less could lure the baby back into life. She had a second of hesitation, while pondering her choices, let the baby die or become his mother, but then her centuries old desire came rushing back at her, erasing any doubt left in her mind and heart. She had already chosen, the moment she had found out he was alive, her maternal instinct had kicked in. She had already embraced motherhood. It was now time to show it to her son.  
  
Deciding to mix both mental and physical stimulation, Medusa started to pass her healing hands over the weak body while her spirit was projecting pictures of herself as a loving and gentle mother in the baby's mind. She was showing him how loving she would be, holding him on her heart, stroking his cheek, kissing softly his forehead, gently rubbing his shoulders and keeping him safe from anything, from anyone. Each image was even more heartfelt and compelling than the previous one. She was making her best to attract and lock his attention on her and her promises, and not on the alluring numbness of death. If only she could awake his interest, if she could convince him to give her a chance, to give himself a chance…  
  
After a moment, which could have been seconds or hours, Medusa couldn't say for sure, the link between them was no longer one sided. During an agonising time, Medusa had felt absolutely no reaction to her mental ministrations. She had been keeping on sending images and warm feelings, but still not detecting any sign that the baby had even acknowledged them, let alone answered to them. The longer it went on this way, the more she was getting desperate and distraught. What if he was too far gone ? What if he was already too eager to die to even pay attention to any way to escape his dire destiny? In a last attempt, she sent all her soul to reach for his and wrap it in all the care and affection she could muster, crying out to him, pleading in an urgent and yet tender tone "Come to me, my son ! Stay with your mother !".  
  
And then it happened. A little spark of interest appeared into the baby's soul, shining weakly at first, and then slowly increasing in intensity in the middle of the grey of the previous unfeeling detachment. It was not only interest, but confusion, puzzlement and wonder too. Progressively, he was turning away from his death wish, intrigued instead by this brand new sensation, this emotional comfort that he was promised. He had not felt it, received it since… before. Before the great shock, the great pain that had preceded all the hurt and cold that had been his life. This new warmth was compelling, singing to him, calling him to bathe himself in it. But it was terrifying too. It was too new, it was too well known. It was another promise. Like… before. And baby knew what came after promises… only hurt. Only pain, cold and loneliness.  
  
He stood there, in his mind, absolutely still, as if hesitating between the two options he was presented. Peace and closure or love and a new beginning. And the voice came again, so soft, stroking gently his whole being, making him perceive the happiness he craved. "I love you my son, my baby boy. Come to me baby, come to mommy!" And that's just what he did. His soul reached for the lady's, his mother's, and locked with it, taking a steal grip on her life force, accepting her offer readily.  
  
With this wonderful sensation, this enthusiastic acceptance of the adoption, Medusa increased the intensity of her healing trance. The danger was still great for the baby's health, if not for his life. The little body in her arms was so still, so weak, so cold. It was frighteningly light too. Such a feeble and fragile shell for such a strong soul… One by one, the last wounds stopped bleeding. Medusa's energy slowly infused a little strength back in the tired heart and organs, making them restart their activities. Life was slowly conquering back agonising territories that had been abandoned to death only a few minutes… or was it hours ago. But the process had been long and difficult. It was not only one cruel attack she had to repair. It was a whole life of abuse and deprivations. But finally, at the end of the night, while the first rays of light were appearing in the horizon, the baby's health was finally stable enough. Medusa's child was saved. 


	2. chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
The sun had just appeared at the horizon, bathing the undergrowth of the forbidden Forrest with its dim light. The snow was now covering the whole place with a blanket of pure and cold whiteness. No animal or magical creature had yet disturbed its untouched perfection in the small clearing or its present occupants. Sat upon a large rock, the figure of a woman cradling in her arms her child seemed frozen in immobility. Not once in the past five hours had she moved in the slightest. And yet, she wasn't dead, and neither was the baby she was holding so tightly. They were lost in a healing trance that had overcome them in the urgent necessity of the horrendous past events of the night.  
  
The amount of magic power involved had been so intense that instinctively all other Forrest denizens who had come near the Blue Licorn's clearing had sensed it and kept away from their Lady by respect. From the tension, they had deduced that it was a matter of life and death, or at least something Medusa thought as very important for her. They had not wanted to interfere in anyway in the hard process involved here, at the risk of endangering the outcome. The Forbidden Forrest had seemed to hold its breath for a moment, keeping that unnatural calm that had protected its Lady's tranquillity and peace in this time of need.  
  
But in this early hour of a winter morning, life seemed to conquer back its rightful territories. Birds had started their songs again above Medusa and her son. Centaurs and unicorns had reinvested their playgrounds all around the peaceful clearing, throwing curious glances that became confused and amused stares at the very unusual spectacle. Never in two millennia their lady protector had really been close or intimate with anyone of them. She had always made a principle not to get too involved with anyone of the denizens of her territory, fearing maybe that her friendship to one clan would be seen as favouritism by others. Always polite and courteous to a fault. But nothing really emotional. It was the first time any magical creature had witnessed such a display of love and care from their Lady. Something had really changed in the Forbidden Forrest. Soon the word would have made its way in every clan, in every corners of Medusa's protectorate.  
  
Unaware of the attention she was attracting at the moment, or simply indifferent to it, Medusa finally ended the healing trance she had been lost in for the past four or five hours. The fight had been long and really straining, but it was done, it was one battle won. Opening her eyes slowly, she allowed herself to loosen a little the close mental link she had build with her new son. She opened her awareness to her surroundings and allowed her snakes to take in all the sensations they could grasp for her. The light, the absence of moves around her, the cold of the snow, the silence sometimes interrupted by birdsong or branches breaking somewhere in the wood. In conclusion, no direct danger. Nothing to fear for her or her baby.  
  
Lowering her gaze on the precious burden, Medusa finally took some time to really watch her son. She had not been able to before, in the hurry of the emergency. His black fine long hair, all entangled and dirty now, contrasted strikingly with his pale skin, which had maybe never been exposed to the light of the sun. His features were already showing the sharp angles he should have had in twenty years, all the baby fat being painfully absent of his cheeks and jaws. The only colour that could be observed on this white skin was the dark purple circles that had settled, surely for a long time now, around eyes she still had not seen. The baby had always been unconscious. dying in a comatose state and now in an exhausted slumber.  
  
The baby boy was sleeping now, cradled closely against her chest, his little fists grabbing with all their strengths the layers of veils that were covering his mother body, as if reassuring himself that the little comfort he had finally found would not escape once again. At this sight, she could only sigh with a mix of both contentment and pity. This fragile being was hers ! Her son, her baby, the new centre of her life ! But her heart could only tighten at the spectacle in front of her eyes. All these angry scars, all these bruises that she could not heal, this horrible thinness. a few hours ago, it had only been shocking and even revolting. Now it was terrifying too. It was no longer any random child, any victim. It was now her son, her baby. He was hers. Hers to love, hers to bring up, hers to take care of, hers to protect. Seeing him like that, so vulnerable, so hurt, with the many traces of a past so dark and painful she couldn't even fathom, was hurting her in a very personal way, filling her with anger as well as compassion.  
  
The only sight of the baby, her son, was a wonderful experience to the millennia old lady. On the previous night, she had made a passionate and instinctive choice, saving this child's life. It could have been any child. It didn't matter then. Now, looking down at him with the love of her new mother eyes, she made this choice once again, she confirmed the eternal commitment she had initiated on the previous night. Because it was him, this really unique and special child, with his unique qualities and personality. It was personal now. Because it was him, because it was her. The trial they had both passed successfully a few hours ago had taught her a lot about her son. He was sensitive and brave. He had been so hurt, and yet there still was a place for love in his heart. It was as if the dark feelings of hate and revenge were totally foreign to him. He was so pure, so beautiful, so wonderfully strong of heart and mind. She couldn't but feel an overwhelming feeling of pride at the thought that this splendid soul was her son's. She had been gifted so richly by the Fates in this day.  
  
Shaking all these thoughts and feelings away for a later analyse, Medusa finally stood up when she noticed that, while she was not vulnerable to the climatic variations, the biting cold of this winter morning could easily become a danger to her still human son's survival. The little blanket he had been wrapped in was torn in so many places that it could hardly be of any use. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on his fragile body, as if to give him more of her body warmth and covered him with one of her veils. In a thought, she apparated away with her son in the cave she had been staying in for centuries now.  
  
Embodied in the middle of the mountain marking the centre of her protectorate, the cave was charmed to only let in Medusa and her designated guests. It was constituted of a series of caves making a suite of rooms she had arranged at her convenience. The place was neither luxurious nor richly furnished, but it was secured and served its purpose fairly well, providing Medusa with a place in which she could rest and have a few indoor activities. Quite simple and even maybe a little Spartan in fact, wooden pieces of furniture were scattered in the rooms, determining vaguely their actual use. a bedroom, storerooms, living rooms, workrooms of different kinds and even a very strange library.  
  
At first sight, it didn't seem much, but a few details marked this unusual place as warm and even welcoming to a certain extent. Fires and candles were disposed all around the rooms, giving a natural light that did not assault Medusa's and her snake's sensible eyes. Weird objects of all sorts, souvenirs of more than three thousands years of life, had given this place the comfortable familiarity of a place lived in for a long time. A careful eye could even admire the magical fresco of a Greek moving landscape that was painted on a whole wall, in the main chamber of the cave, the picture of the island where she was born.  
  
But none of those so familiar details really registered anymore, after so many centuries, and less of all on this particular morning, when the Lady of the Forrest apparated at home, her son tightly cradled on her chest. At the same second she had arrived, she had run, rather than walked, in the chamber she used as a bedroom, in the rare occasions she needed a little sleep. Kneeling in front of the bed, Medusa carefully laid her burden on the soft and comfortable arrangement of moss and leaves that made the bedding.  
  
Seeing that the child was still deeply asleep, she seized the opportunity to make him a little more at ease and to verify she had not overlooked anything in her healing trance, without risking to have him afraid to be touched by a virtual stranger. Cutting away the last shreds of cloth he was still wrapped in, Medusa started to wash away the dried blood and the mud that were staining his skin. Wherever the washcloth was wiping away the dirt, she made sure that another wound or bruise was not hiding viciously. Luckily, she had not missed anything presenting any kind of medical emergency.  
  
And yet, all her snakes' eyes could perceive was not pleasing, to say the least. Medusa had made her best, during the whole night, to erase all signs of illness and abuse, or to be more precise, all their symptoms and direct effects, but she had not been able to take away the hundreds of magical scars, resulting from dark curses, that were disrupting the softness of his baby skin on his whole body. The esthetical issue was not the point that mattered the most. but the child would most likely than not have to live with this physical reminder of the horror of his little childhood carved forever in his skin, with no way to escape from it and from the devastating effect it would have on his psychical development. The child would have to be superbly strong in his mind and soul, if his spirit would have any chance of surviving it.  
  
Finally discarding the soiled water and washcloth, Medusa settled herself beside the bed, watching closely her child and dwelling on all those serious fears and hopes for the future. his future. their future. Hours passed like that, in the stillness of the wait. Medusa barely moved at all, only from time to time gently wiping away the drops of sweat that were running down the little boy's face. A lingering fever had appeared in the first hours of the afternoon, leaving the weak body alternatively shivering in the chill of illness and sweating in the heath of the new fight for life. A restless sleep had followed the stillness of the initial slumber. The boy was shaking and trashing the bedding away, occasionally letting a painful and fearful moan escape from his thin white lips, only to calm himself when he could feel Medusa holding his little hand supportively and stroking gently his face.  
  
The evening and following night were a very trying moment to pass for both of them. maybe even more for Medusa than for her child. With every toss and turn, with every moan, with every shiver, she was terrified to see her baby taken away from her. Her whole magic was not enough to heal her son totally. She had come to the conclusion, after the first twenty attempt at feeding him her energy to destroy the illness and fever, that the process, as exhausting and dangerous as it was, was necessary. The baby's organism had to hunt down and throw away every remnant of the dark magic that had inhabited and maimed his body for so long, if he would have a chance of starting a new life free from its deadly influence. It was simply killing her to see him suffering like that, while she could do nothing but watch. and assure him time after time in soft and featherlike touches she was fighting with him, in spirit if nothing else.  
  
And finally, in the early hours of the second morning, the fever broke. Suddenly, the baby boy won his fight against unconsciousness and sleep and started to stir weakly. In a hurry, Medusa, yet excited as she was, summoned her veils to cover her deadly features, afraid the curse of her sight would kill the son she had fought so hard to keep alive. Soft moans amplified into small cries and inarticulate calls. "Mmmum.Mumm." Only one word, or what sounded vaguely as such, could be heard repeated time after time, urging Medusa to squeeze lovingly the small hand she was already holding in hers. The gesture was understood as an encouragement to find and join this comforting presence. For a few more seconds, the weight of sleep seemed to crush down any attempt at moving heavy eyelids, but finally, they cracked open. to reveal the whiteness of blind and unmoving eyes.  
  
The gasp of horror, pain and compassion this vision elicited in Medusa only managed to upset the child even more. In his weak state, in the darkness of his blindness, with no real means to evaluate his surrounding and his situation, he had focussed his senses, his desperately hungry for affection senses, on the ghost presence of a mother he had yearned to know and dreamt about for years, on the warm hand that was touching him with so much love, guiding him like a life line through the pain . And now, the first thing he was perceiving was this sound he had instinctively associated with rejection and disapproval. 'Alone. still alone. always alone. no hope.' this mantra would soon have entered his distraught mind to never leave it again. if Mother had not reacted so quickly. Realising her mistake, Medusa had gently pulled her son to her, settling him on her lap and holding him tightly against her heart, stroking languidly his long black hair and murmuring sweet and reassuring nonsense in his ear, lulling him to sleep.  
  
It was in this position that Medusa spent the next few hours, rocking slowly her precious child while her mind was focussed on the resolution of the new situation in which she had chosen to take herself. The next few days would be determining, both for her and for her son. She had thought at first she had received the responsibility and favour from the Fates to raise and love a child. But the recent events had revealed a few details she would have to adapt to if she wanted to gather as much chances and assets as possible in hers and her son's advantages. Not only the child was human, but also a wizard, as no muggle would have reacted so readily to her heart magic, and a blind abused little baby. For now at least.  
  
To be sincere, Medusa had to confess to herself that her experience in the practical care of such a child was very limited, if not absent. As much as she had wished she would be a natural mother to him, without any interference in her new found happiness, she had to admit that for now, she needed help and advice from someone who would be more knowledgeable and practised in the matter, someone she respected for their kindness and their good heart, someone she could trust with the most precious being in her life.  
  
Ever the pragmatic one, Medusa didn't loose time pretending to be able to do what she was perfectly aware she didn't know and readily started to sort through the possibilities. Soon enough, she had discarded every magical creature of her domain. Neither of them were human, after all, and the general policy in the traditions of the Forbidden Forrest denizens was to avoid any contact with the human population as much as possible. to state it clearly, she would never find the experience needed in any of them, even in the half-human creatures. No. She had to find a human being. a wizard even. Of course she knew that next to her territories had been built a hamlet and a school. but past events had made her wary of their attitude toward any non humman being. If she made the wrong choice, she could find herself in a situation where one of those wizards would want to take her child away from her, pretexting that only human could raise human children. No. She had to find someone who would respect her for what and who she was, who would accept her decision and be willing to help her without ill placed interference. The only real choice was the simple and kind half-giant, Hagrid. 


End file.
